LOGIN"Vincenzo, no!" Gianna screamed, throwing herself forward. "Please! Don't do this to her!" She fought against my hold with everything she had. "Relax, Gianna," I said quietly, pulling her firmly against my chest as she struggled to break free. Under any other circumstances, I would have loosened
"Because she's street-level waste," Vincenzo said, his voice flat, almost bored. "And she made a street-level decision." Dante released Cole, who crumpled to the floor, then swung the laptop around so we could see the screen, "I've got Mercer's footage," he said. "It lines up with his version. Cole
He straightened as much as Dante's grip allowed, fixing his attention entirely on my brother. "I know what the Capone name means. You don't poke a sleeping tiger unless you're looking to get eaten alive. Everything I did tonight was to prove my loyalty." It was convincing and logically structured.
Denise collapsed into herself, a broken, animalistic wail tearing from her throat as her head hung so low her forehead nearly touched the blood pooling beneath her. "That is the truth, Gianna!" she cried. "I was just so tired. You don't know what it's like to have people threatening to kill you eve
Alfonso moved instantly. He lunged forward, grabbing Morgan and jerking her head back until her neck strained. He jammed the barrel of his pistol into her mouth. She let out a muffled, terrified sob, her hands shaking in the air as she choked around the gun. My eyes returned to Denise, locking ont
"But right now... my only job is to make sure nobody ever hurts you again." I couldn't help her while she was pulling against the ropes still wrapped around her ankles. "Stay still." She didn't, "Raphael, please—" "I said stay still." I crouched in front of her and pulled the knife from my belt
My brain felt like a tangled ball of yarn. I tried to read the data set again, but the numbers blurred into gray smudges. I needed to be perfect. If I wasn't perfect, I was nothing. I was just a broken thing taking up space in a house that wasn't mine. My hand moved to my bag. It was a reflex
Then, she looked back at me. Our eyes locked for a heartbeat. There was no warmth there. Her face hardened, her brow furrowing into a deep frown of pure disgust. It wasn't jealousy, it was the look of someone who had just stepped in something foul and couldn't get the smell out of her clothes.
She let out a small, broken whimper and dove back down, her tongue frantic, her teeth grazing me as she tried to prove me wrong. She was gagging, her eyes watering as she fought her own anatomy to please mine. It was exactly what I needed. No complexity. No "stepsister" bullshit. I watch
The first turn was a death trap, a sharp left around a rusted shipping container. I didn't brake. I leaned the bike so low I could feel the heat radiating off the asphalt, my knee puck dragging and throwing sparks into the dark. One slip, one patch of oil, and I’d be a smear on the concrete. I di







